On the Way, Way to Go..

She gracefully stepped out of her chauffeur-driven Audi , and walked into her office- a part of her daily chores. Her Audi and her princess-like lifestyle surrounded her with a balance of admirers and haters. Her seemingly fairy tale life presented her to the world like a damsel picked straight out of a Disney tale.

In her today-like-yesterday, tomorrow-like-today life, last Sunday was a remarkable one. No, no, it wasn’t the Prince Charming. Gourmet Lunch? Late Night Party? It wasn’t them either. Possibilities of  a surprise mail, or a workplace success story could also be ruled out.

The “remarkable” day was about her travel to a friend’s place. Until now, Sri had barely seen life beyond home, Audi, school, workplace, family, and occasionally, an airplane. What could have been a more wonderful escape to a whole new world, than a journey on a local train, amongst thousands and millions of those exposed to the phenomenon, called ‘life’!

Traditional local trains in Kolkata are characterized by their green and yellow bodies, and an exclusively allotted foul-smelling bogie for the vendors. Like all other trains, they have their five-digit number codes and a defined schedule. However, they gain popularity in terms of their destinations and the crowd they accommodate in their brief journeys-Bongaon, Krishnanagar, and Bardhaman being the showstoppers in the local train world.

The staircases to the platform were filthy, but that was a matter of few seconds. The platform welcomed her with a series of composed announcements about the train-to-platform mapping. Groups of people were waiting everywhere to “invade” the passengers that would arrive on the trains and get off at the platform. There were parents instructing their kids to hold on.. ladies preparing to fight ladies at the ladies’ compartment; and then there were groups of random young boys calculating the statistics and probability of ease of boarding trains and getting off, with assumptions based on history and geography. The universal strategy though, was very much like that of getting into Plaform 9 ¾ -- walk straight through the crowd (with all your strength, within a minute) and Sri would stick to it. It did take a little bit of effort, but the crowd absorbed her into the train sooner than she realized.

In the train, she managed to place herself in an area of 20 square centimeters. Unlike the seclusion in her usual modes of transport and the places she travels to, the train was packed with people of varied shape and taste, and voice and mannerisms, with more and more people trying to accommodate themselves in every possible inch of space available. The sound of the train and the crowd was music to the lonely soul.

Amidst all the madness, the hawkers stole the show. They probably are the people who have mastered the art of salesmanship, unlike the MBA degree holders getting harassed by the crooked corporate. The hawker’s description of the taste and health benefits tempted Sri  into buying a plate of spiced(dust was also one of the spices), hygiene- proof guavas to feed her naïve soul and soon-to-be-upset tummy. The list of qualities of digestive tablets, fried peanuts and candies was fascinating. What a pity, our health sciences never taught us what the hawkers teach us every day!

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that every man in possession of lustrous bald will be in want of a comb”.

The local train also seemed to be a place for buying other non-food products at unusually attractive prices. You would get to buy a really cheap fidget spinner, and you would get a pen and another pen, and a comb, and also a screw driver free with it. And the way the hawker spins his story is amazing, no Holmes can beat the sinister in what the next free product could be, and how all the products are related!

Amused and liberated, Sri carefully noted down the information about the various diseases and the doctors on the pamphlets pasted on the train walls. Getting off at the station was effortless; someone pulled her down to the platform. Some familiar face J

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Today is just another work day. At lunch, Sri is patiently listening to her colleague’s woes about his local train journey. Little did he know that his struggles were, for a day, luxury, a Roman Holiday to the “Princess locked up in a castle”. 

Vermillion

She sat there, by the river. The pleasant memories of her Violet Indian Ringneck lingered through the years of student life. The little bird, her best friend, would rejoice at the sound of her schoolbus as it stopped at the doorstep to drop her home. The parakeet would watch her as she playfully tucked at its toys through the gaps of its cage. The fun persisted as a part of their daily routine, and the friendship remained a spectator to her journey from little Neha Gupta to Mrs. Neha Sharma. Together they learnt about the struggles of Indigo farmers of Champaran, and over the years, they shared the displeasure in Monday morning Blues.

A tiny droplet of tear struggled it's way into her mildly smiling lips as the reminisced the amusement in maintaining the same diet of salads and lettuce as her vegan pet in her determination to shed calories. Their laughter echoed through the greener days of their lives, until the day they left for their new homes- Neha for her husband's realm, and the parakeet for it's heavenly abode. Perhaps, the sight of Neha smeared in turmeric and draped in yellow was pleasing, the separation that followed was menacing. 

                                                               ***************

The season of oranges had come to an end. She barely heard him speak in a month; a rare disease had robbed his brain of its capabilities, and the couple, of their marital bliss. The winters faded, the blizzard of her life concluded, leaving her heart, and his body cold and lifeless. Reality and stress would deprive her of springs for the rest of her life.

                                                               ***************

The flames had devoured his body in no time. The ashes were immersed. A tinge of red remained on her forehead even as the society stripped her of her identity. And there she sat, by the river, the memories of her pet, and her husband seeking to paint her flawless white sari…
She left late that evening, as life stirred in her womb. Dreams, after all are forever as bright as Vermillion.

One Day at a Time....

The moon widowed the night

And Silence with all its might

Numbed life in its way..

Shrivelled spirits,

And woeful plight..

Mayhem flickered

With hushed delight

And rendered dismay…

Solitude took over,

Scattered and sour,

The dreams walked away.

They waited the night,

And the morn,

And the nights to come,

They stitched their dreams,

And songs unsung..

Then, they called it a day.

Resurrection

Whilst silence sang its sultry ire,

Winsome words of Sov'ran desires

Whistled past the hardy hush

With its galling, gentle gush.

A painless pause raced through time

Speaking apathy in mime.

Solace took over slumber,

Breezing forth with springs of wonder..

Some flimsy, flashy, fluttering beams,

Illuminated the flashy dreams..

Of timbrels of truth, of lutes of light..

And the waves of stillness rose-

To the immortal surf! To life!

Reminisced, Resurrected.

Flashback

Glances bartered along roadsides..

Looking back-a bleeding bonafide;

Rendezvous, reasons,

Solitude, seasons….

Enchanted elegance..

Demeaning distance…

Trailing the time that was gone…

They glanced back…. And walked on.

Jet lag

What could be the best way to define the distance between spouses? The miles between the two cities in two different countries they are living in? The hours between the two time zones? The empty spaces between them? Or the silence.. the inaccessibility?

 Physics defines distance as length or space between two points.. Graphically it is represented by subtracting the coordinated of the two given points. Perhaps between people too, something gets subtracted from each other. Something goes missing. Which takes us back to the first set of questions! As to what the possible remainder is!

Graphically distances between points are often measured by joining them by straight lines. Connection. Strings. From heart to heart.

Distance. A wider angle of view. Brings to your notice what wasn’t accessible to you when you stood right in front of your point of reference. In this case, your spouse. From harsh realities to sweet truths, they get to explore each other. They say :

“One sees qualities at a distance and defects at close range”.

 There may be possibilities of a few bitter discoveries. Nevertheless, the frog prince in the fairy tale wouldn't have been as enchanting without vivid descriptions of the pond, the garden, the castle, or the princess herself.

A concept of motion always goes hand in hand with distance. Moving a day away from the day she last met him. Moving a day closer to the day he would see her again! A journey to cover up for the miles, hours and void…..

The basic aspects cannot be ruled out either. Missing each other… Anticipating.. Waiting… And building bridges to find shortcuts to each other..

In my case:

The shortest distance between us is under construction. Reconstruction.

Dream life, Live dreams!

Dream. A subconscious state of mind. By definition it is an occurrence of involuntary succession of images and sensations when one is asleep.  It is that part of your sleep that gives you a sense of being awake. Ordinary, surreal or bizarre, it makes people feel alive.

Dreams don’t happen to us. We realize it. We realize what is it that we haven’t thought of. Rather, what our conscious self hasn’t thought of.  Dream is like the “Mirror of Erised” as shown in the Harry Potter series.

“Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi”

Read backwards it means: I show not your face but your heart’s desire. A similar interpretation of dreams was put forward by Sigmund Freud in his word The Interpretation of Dreams. According to him, we have a tendency to hold back our urges and impulses. And these suppressed feeling find their ways out in different forms, one of which is dreams.

True, that it’s an illusion. But isn’t it beautiful?! To find yourself in Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, or in Willi Wonka’s chocolate factory with Charlie? It’s great to be wandering along with Alice in her wonderland! And it’s as wonderful to dance with your “dream” love. And as awesome to see yourself as Bill Gates’ boss! It could grow wilder than that! Well how about the question paper for tomorrow’s exam?

Not that they don’t baffle us with what we call nightmares! Yet, dreams, lucid or vague, are beautiful. And waking up, even better. Their naïve reminiscence of the dreamer may animate or agitate him. Or give rise to a whole new creative process.

We “create” dreams. And we can make them real with the same creativity.  Not that we would always end up discovering the same species of the rare pink bird with crimson lips and blue-purple-green-yellow wings we dreamt of; we may, instead someday be a renowned artist for painting the same bird seated in its golden nest- paint our dreams!


“The years that are gone seem like dreams—if one might go on sleeping and dreaming—but to wake up and find—oh! well! Perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one’s life.”
                                                                           -Kate Chopin ( The Awakening)

Wordygurdyboom

Prayers, players, peace in peaces…
Idols, Idyll, icy inveighs…..


Dusty dusk, dusky derm
Airs, aces, accursed ages


Robust royals, Raided roses..
Unlit umber Umpteen urges..


Opium ocean , Odious oases,
Souvenir  solitude somber senses........

More than words

“Another untimely death. A young guy died in road accident in office. Unbelievable”- is the message I just read in my mail box. May his soul RIP.


What a word! Death! Its all about Silence- defines the one who meets with the fate, defines the ones who face the news; eternal silence for the former.. and moments of silence in case of the latter...
And I wish moving on was as simple as one deep breath..!

“Silence speaks over, saying all we need to say…..”

Yes there’s more to silence. To start with, let’s talk about the abrupt eclipse of my pen (keyboard to be precise) from the blogosphere. Well, writing destiny kept me from writing blogs. And as always, it was just a pencil script, must be erased and rewritten. Needless to mention, destiny is a little less abstract than blogs while facing it, a little more abstract while writing it. It’s my transcendental consciousness, which writes both!

“You say it best when you say nothing at all…”

Silence is the speech of love they say. This part is easier experienced than explained. The mystery of silence acts like a magnet, binds hearts together. Platonic or sensual, it speaks for itself.

“You do not know, silence like a cancer grows……”

Distance. Empty spaces. Separation. Words need to fill the void. And there are none. That’s when silence screams. And however deafening it may be, unanswered questions and incomplete thoughts are all it leaves behind.


Well, I’ll stop here for today. And my silence would be an invitation for words from you, my friend….

“Silence must be heard, noise should be observed,

The time has come to learn that silence…

Silence must be heard”

Sour Depths, Sweet Dreams!!

Palaces of promises,

In the midst of broken premises;

Daydreams, dreamers, dreamy faces……

A snow, a flake, a vow-

-Resting on the cupid’s crown;

Untouched, unarmed;

Of words of charm,

Sweetness bleeding, crimson pleading!

On My Knees...

Hold back the heart-flying higher..

Is this a dream, or a crimson satire?

Behold! The rendezvous of desire!

Jesus! Is my heart on fire?

The Blank Page

Another blank page, and here I am with a pen, looking for proper words to fill it up. I stare at the blank page for quite some time waiting for an essay to write itself… But it still lies there, silent in its emptiness, formidable in its vastness. The endless expanse of white space waits for that first mark of ink, the first brilliant word.

The fate of the blank page is all about how words are arranged in it. And once you are done, you turn it around for another piece of white space. For such is life, I tell you, taking into account the way it proceeds. While in the process of writing destiny, an interval pops in every now and then. That’s when life turns its pages. And everytime there’s a new page, a new situation, you wonder, “what next?” … and you pen down the next chapter on that dreaded white space, waiting in the void.

Well whatever.. I’m still waiting for the first word for my piece of white sheet….

Or… Did I just fill a blank page??

Ink Blot

(This is a page from my diary... 17 May,2011,Time:3:30)

Insomnia is something, a sleepless night is another. And giving up your sleep for a night, or occasionally is…. Well… just another thing too!

The magnificence of a “quiet” night keeps you awake, pondering over its mysteries. However, a “not so quiet night” presents before your weary, dream-worn eyes a slideshow of illusions. Envy takes over the feeling of awe for those who are responsible for the loss of the usual composure of the night. The magnanimity of their noisy sleep compels you to first watch out for an extra pillow to shield your ears against the noise. If you fail to find one, the search for a more peaceful place is initiated. If there are ‘no results found’ yet again, you go to a neglected corner of your house, switch on a table lamp, and take up a pen and paper. and do what I’m doing now.

And soon you find yourself staring at the window, clueless about how to proceed with your work. You watch the night dawn into a beautiful morning. The noise slowly fades away.

A couple of hours, and you are woken up at that same corner …….. a few words on one half the other…………….. and an ink blot on the other!

A Midsummer Night's Dream

This solemn summer night

Vows to the distant sight

Of dusky hopes, a drowsy delight,

Of starry dreams, a maverick moonlight;

Of breezy thoughts, some shadowed fright,

Of the sleeping stillness, a restless plight..

Of the heated path, the steaming air,

Of blistered feet, the soothing solitaire;

Of sweating eyes and the tanned fair,

Of dripping lips, the dark’s glare;

Of the slumbered lamppost, of nervy nightnares……

To the ageing novice, the waking dawn’s dare!!!

Power Cut...

Let's come to the point,the person mentioned in the post, "Empowering Priorities" is no more. Well... yea, it was an accident. And it was sudden. And unexpected too! But most importantly it was destiny..the Almighty's way of making us feel the presence of the Superpowers; His way of proving the existence of powers more powerful than us. And a successful attempt of the Supremes to make us surrender.

Dad, You've been,and will always be the most Powerful man I know. May you Rest in Peace.

Love you dad.!

Dew Drop

A drop of dew slithering down,

Past the leaf veins.....all alone;

Tracing its way to the edge..

Wating to drop down to the wretch!!

Be the droplet a nascent rainlet?

Or the crown of the heir leaflet?

Ot the flowing tear of a broken fate?

Or just the traveller's charm bait?

Mysteries endless.....

Seekers clueless......

A dew drop helpless.....

Ah.. There it is-----Beauty Flawless!

Emptiness

A dreamy day,
A waning way,
A nasty night,
A sober sight...
A gleeful glare,
A fathom of fear..
Brewing blisters,
Yawning yesters,
Creamy colors,
Pleading pallor,
The misty marsh,
Hazy and harsh..
A lovely loner, with her lonely love!

Eat.Pray.Live.

Dear followers and readers...

Here I am, after having survived 2 long tragic days, breathing the air of the blogosphere.

http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eqinthenews/2011/usc0001xgp/#summary

My condolences to all the victims of the Japan calamity, and their families..

My condolences to my dearest friend, who lost his mother yesterday in an accident.. May the Almighty give them the strength to move on with these residents of heaven watching over them.

And may the departed souls rest in peace.

In the mean time, friends, give it a thought: Isn't the unpredictability of life brutal at times? Isn't the transience of our dearest possessions the reason for all our mental injuries? The answers being an unwanted "yes", its time we wake up from our ignorant slumbers. I'm aware, that in an attempt to free myself of the grief of the losses and the fear of the losses to come, I'm only reiterating the words of many other great people. But I'm sure expecting at least a few of you to start thinking in the way I'm doing now: I'm not referring to the grief, I'm talking about the endeavor to make the world a better place to live in.

The strategies&punchlines are all conventional...

*positive thinking

*life being short has little space for hatred or sorrow

*Self introspection

*think before you act....

*safety

..... and so on and so forth...

And I suppose every person is well aware of these little things........

The knowledge, however is not working anymore. It's time to act. That too, on an individual basis. Dear friends, let's do our bit, and make people do the same. Every little effort counts. We can't confront nature, but we can behave the way nature has made us. We keep forgetting that we are born as "human beings" and not "inhuman beings". Having done enough damage already, let's now behave like the goody goody kids... well.... that MIGHT soften Mother Nature.. you know!

This will definitely not assure you of a disaster-proof life, but it sure will dilute the severity of the disasters.

Let's be the solution, not the problem!

Say,Love!!

Peace, the piece of my heart..

Pleasure, in thy love’s art...

Path that knows no thwart,

Plight, in the distance apart,

Pure since the day it starts......

Ravenous is the lust

Racing past the dust..

Real and robust.

,Royal and just...

Reaching for the world so vast.....

Imagination...

Intense passion....

Impregnable ,

immesnsely unforgettable..

Yearning for the love..

Young and fresh-

Yelling to

Yesterday’s dream......

A new day,

Adoring you in a new way

Amid the golden rays...

Amorously today!

Nervous..

Nascent..

Naive...

Noble.

Kisses temptation,

Kindles the passion..

Kneeling nights amaze your ignited rare pleasure!

On the sets!

Ever watched your phone buzz away, the caller being someone you desperately want to talk to at the moment? Try it, I assure, the pain doesn’t hurt that bad. It is just the conflict you have with yourself over the priority of the emotion that’s driving you crazy; you struggle to find out what’s nudging you the most-your wish to talk, your determination to defy your wish, your emptiness, or just the silly reason that’s keeping you from receiving the call!

It’s indeed funny how we walk away from our titbit heartbeats(apart from anyone, they include anything dear to us), leaving behind a few footprints, a few memories, a few bruises, and a plethora of reasons to glance back occasionally. And walking along, we realize, it’s neither the departure, nor the emptiness or pleasure aftermath that matters-it’s just the “happens for good” part of it! And finally, the heartbeats settle in some page of a diary, and if lucky, of a history book.

Why, you do smile with wet eyes when you discard your “favourite childhood skirt” someday; you’ve grown up, you won’t wear it anyway! Parents do send their kids away, and with time, the tears of separation fade away, the child’s success persists! We do leave our beloved behind! And we do move on after the separation!

Certain incidents do ping our lives occasionally, catalyse our emotions tremendously, and then remain “a part of life”.

Life, after all is a stage! It demands to get more and more dramatized! And you come out of the theatre saying, “Well, that was quite a play!”